Under a Killing Moon
by Taryn Knight
Summary: Her book Into the Labyrinth becomes a number one best seller within a couple of months, but twentysix year old Sarah no longer believes that her experiences in the Labyrinth were real. What will she do when Reality fades and Dream rises to take it's place
1. Finding Reality

"Sarah, Sarah! Will you please sign my book?"  
I had to admit, I was just a bit overwhelmed, and even after hours of signing I was still a bit frazzled. I hadn't expected so many people to show up for the book signing. Honestly, I hadn't believed the book had done as well as my agent claimed.

"Of course," I exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Come on over."

The young boy pushed past a few lingering fans to set his book on the table. "I certainly didn't expect you to be here."

Ten year old Toby grinned broadly at me. "Well, mom made me come," he admitted sheepishly. "Then I get to go to the arcade with Ryan."  
"I could have signed it tomorrow at dinner," I replied as I scribbled a brief greeting of some sort and my name on the inside cover.

Toby rolled his eyes.

"'You need to show your big sister that you care'," he replied, mimicking his mother so accurately I couldn't help but laugh.

"You done?" I replied, snapping the book closed before handing it to him.  
"Yeah! Now I can go play video games!" he cried, shoving rather rudely through the people he had just come through. I'd definitely have to go into big sister' mode on him about it later.

I shook my head and glanced towards the clock.

Five past six.

I should have been out of the bookstore by now! Grayson was going to be very upset if I was late for dinner- again.

I hastily began tossing my things into my bag and just as I was about to rise, a shadow fell over the table.

"Sorry to interrupt," a man's voice drifted softly to meet my ears, "but do you have time for one more autograph, Miss Reid?"

He set the book down with a soft thump and slid it across the table towards me.

I sighed inwardly, but kept that smile on my face- what was one more scribble?

Without looking up I flipped open the cover of the book and uncapped my pen. "Who am I making it out to?" I asked, pen poised in the ready.

"Jareth," he said.

Pen paused mid-stroke.

"Excuse me?" I said, finally looking up.

At this angle I could hardly make out any facial features, let alone anything distinguishing or... familiar. The shadows caused by dim lights hanging over head didn't help either.

"Garrison, Victor Garrison," he repeated. "It's for my son, he's a big fan of yours."

Garrison, of course. I hastily scribbled something that could be called a signature and handed the book back to him. " Already? Well, I hope he enjoys it."

The man nodded. "I'm sure he will."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and watched as the man left, disappearing behind rows of bookshelves and other displays.

Get a grip, Sarah, I muttered before leaving the store myself.

As I sat in rush-hour traffic, I thought about the book signing, and the man. I didn't understand why but sometimes the dream still seemed so vividly real in my mind. I couldn't believe I had once thought it had actually happened.

I'd always had an overactive imagination, especially in my youth. I had always fantasized about being a princess caught up in a dire plot against her kingdom. However with age came responsibility, and with responsibility came the harsh coldness of reality.

I'm no princess and the only dire plots against me were the bills I had to pay every month. That, however, didn't mean life was dull and lacked any sort of adventure, far from it. In fact, living each day without climbing deeper into the economical hole called debt was all the excitement I could handle now a days.

Call me cynical or pessimistic, but life was turning out to be no happily ever after'. not that I was depressed with the path my life I had taken. I had a stable job writing for a magazine, I had a good house, a nice car and a steady boyfriend.

I mean, Grayson might not have ridden up on a white horse, he didn't sing ballads outside my window after an argument, he certainly wasn't prince charming rescuing me from an otherwise horrible life spent locked in a tower. But there was love there, or at least genuine like, and I couldn't complain.

The blaring of a horn jolted me from my thoughts to inform me that the light had turned green and I was just sitting there.

I started forward again, glancing once more at the clock. Six-ten. I had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant. In this traffic, I was at least half an hour away if not more.

I had made the mistake in my youth, to tell my stepmother what happened that night I had the dream. I had been so convinced it was real, it had happened, that Toby had been kidnapped from his bed by a Goblin King, that I refused to see otherwise.

We fought so often in those days, she blamed my story telling on my hating her. I insisted that I wouldn't take the time to waste a story on her. I never believed that she understood me, and I still don't think she does.

Somewhere along the line we made a silent, but mutual truce and if we couldn't be mother and daughter, we settled somewhere in the range of friends. After a while I just stopped trying to convince her it was the truth and began writing the book- Into the Labyrinth.

It was my attempt at getting my story to the world, proving to them that my experiences had been just that, experiences. Not some dream I created to get under my stepmother's skin. Two years passed and the thirteen hours I believed I had spent in the maze to get my baby brother back started to grow vague. Facts were confused and names forgotten.

I began to grow up, dated boys, went to parties, lived a normal, teenage life and forgot about a night that had never really happened save for in the deepest recesses of my mind.

I pulled to a stop in front of the Regal Royal Hotel and Restaurant at seven-ten.

Wonderful.

"Keys miss?" A very prompt valet asked, holding out his hand.

I handed the keys to him in exchange for a slip of paper with a number on it, then hurried into the restaurant. It took me only a minute to find him, sitting at a table with a rather annoyed expression upon his face.

"Grayson, I'm sorry," I said when I drew close enough to be heard. He looked towards me with a skeptical look on his face and I knew very well I deserved it. Being on time was never my forté.

"I asked you if six-thirty would be okay," Grayson said with a frown.

"I'm sorry, there were more people at the signing then I expected, and then rush-hour, the highway was jammed-"

"You always have an excuse, Sarah," Grayson said, shaking his head.

I tried not to frown. I hadn't been that late, he was being too hard. He was being very unfair.

The thought startled me, it was certainly something that hadn't entered my mind in quite a while. Not since... not since that night.

"Sarah? Are you even listening to me?"

I nodded my head and looked at him. "Yes, of course."

It didn't look like he believed me but he kept on talking regardless. I was beginning to think he did it because he liked the sound of his own voice.  
"Kingsley wants me in New York by tomorrow morning," he said, glancing over the menut.

"What? Tomorrow? What about dinner with my parents, remember?"

Had he really forgotten? It had taken months to plan, to find a day when we were all free and could get together. Have a chance to really get to know each other better.

"I'm sorry, sweets," he replied, taking a sip of his water. He didn't look sorry.

"Can't you leave the day after, or late tomorrow night even?" I pleaded with him. "This is very important to me." He rubbed lightly at this temples and I knew instantly that I had pushed to far, that I had annoyed him.

"I know, Sarah," he replied in a clipped, short tone. "But my job should be as well, especially if you plan on being a writer. Someone has to be able to support us."

I don't know if it was what he said, or the way he said it, but something struck a nerve.

"You don't think I could do that?" I asked, trying not to sound as hurt as I felt.

"I'm not going to get into an argument with you, Sarah," Grayson replied with a sigh. "Let's order shall we?"

Just like that the conversation had been put to a stop. Anything else I had planned to say died on the tip of my tongue and I just stared as Grayson ordered for the both of us. This was reality, and in reality there were no dragons or evil wizards. Only workaholic business men with the power of guilt and the evil of money to fuel it.


	2. Normalcy is a State of Mind

  
I called my parents that night when I got home and regrettably told them I had to cancel. I wasn't about to go to a dinner meant for Grayson if he wasn't going to be there. 

They were far more understanding then I would have liked, but what could I say? Please, be furious so that I have a more plausible reason for being angry?

An hour after hanging up I found myself still curled up in my bed with rather unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I hadn't eaten much at dinner, not after Grayson had decided to play the part of stoic businessman. I really don't know what happened to him. In college he had been a carefree, laid back kinda guy. He'd never worried about money and luxury. Neither of us had worried and I still didn't.

Of course that was all before he got 'the job' working for Kingsley International. I still wasn't sure what exactly he spent all day doing. I never thought to ask and he never offered the information.

A few more minutes of quiet contemplation and I finally rolled off the bed. My toes wrinkled in protest when they hit the cold wooden floor before I made my way into the hallway.

I was about halfway down the staircase when I felt a cold wind rush past my feet. A loud bang drew my startled attention towards the foyer and I saw that the front door was hanging open.

Odd, I could have sworn I had closed and locked it. It was just something I always did when Grayson was going out of town.

But, maybe this time I hadn't, my mind had been focused on a million other things at the time so it was a definitely a possibility. Shrugging off the foreboding feeling I finished my journey down the stairs and closed it again, reminding myself to set the alarm when I got into the kitchen.

"Sarah."

The voice startled me so much I almost knocked over an antique vase that Grayson insisted we put in the middle of the foyer. I hated the thing, it was hideous, but it was also a family heirloom that he refused to let collect dust in the attic. He wanted it to be out for the world to see. He said it showed class and taste.

As my hands fought to steady both vase and the table it sat upon, my eyes darted around in search of the speaker.

Not a soul was there.

I would have sworn on my mother's grave that I had heard the voice. It had been as clear as day.

A chill ran down my spine as I took a step back from the table and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Maybe you are nuts, Sarah," I said at last before releasing a heavy sigh.

"Undoubtedly," the voice mused, closer this time. I turned again, expecting to find nothing but thin air awaiting me. Alas, I was mistaken.

I found myself nose to chest with a the man of my dreams.

In a sense.

"Jareth," I breathed in utter disbelief. "You don't exist. You aren't real." He couldn't be standing in front of me as though he had just waltzed from the pages of my book. But he was.

"Obviously, I do," the tall, slender man replied before offering a rather sly grin. "You don't seem to place much confidence in your convictions, Sarah. Are you crazy or aren't you? Am I real, or aren't I?"

"What do you want?" I asked pushing past him. I had always wondered what I would do if he ever showed up again. How I would react, what I would say.

I had expected speechlessness, clammy hands maybe... a little more surprise.

Oddly enough, I felt nothing... and words came with little hesitation.

"Straight to the point, you never were one to beat around the bush," Jareth's voice followed me into the kitchen.

"You always enjoyed dancing around it," I shot back.

I flipped the switch and my heart leapt when I saw him sitting nonchalantly at my kitchen table. Why did he insist on doing that?

"Don't you walk anywhere?" I asked scowling a bit.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" he asked that sly smirk never fading from ageless features.

He looked so out of place sitting in my kitchen, though I expect he would have looked out place anywhere save for a renaissance festival. Black cloaks and medieval garb just didn't fit in a world of technology and fast-paced living.

Disgusted with his response, I began to dig through cupboards in search of something. I couldn't even remember why I had come downstairs to being with.

Seconds of silence ticked by before I felt warm breath caress the back of my neck. I turned quickly and found myself once again mere inches from him. The reaction must've pleased him, for that devilish grin graced his features. I pushed him away and moved to the other side of the room which wasn't nearly as far as I would have liked.

"You haven't changed a bit," I said dryly.

"You've grown up."

"Glad you noticed."

"How could I miss it?" he replied sliding that cloak from his shoulders. He draped it over the back of a chair and leaned against the wall. "How did you get so bitter?"

"I'm not bitter," I replied defensively.

Jareth laughed. "Of course not."

"When did this become a psychoanalysis?" I snapped before marching from the kitchen. I could not believe that I was standing around, talking to someone who wasn't supposed to exist, about how I was not bitter.

"What did you say you wanted again?" I yelled back towards the kitchen.

"What do you think?"

He was sitting on the stairs now, back resting against the wall.

"I don't have time for this, leave," I stated. I walked towards the door and began undoing all the locks.

"Tell me Sarah, how is little Toby?" he asked in a rather offhand manner that I knew was only intended to spark my anger.

It worked.

I turned from the door to glare at him. "Don't you even think about laying a hand on him."

Jareth laughed again and shook his head a bit. "No worries, my dear, he's far too old now, I need a child I can raise, one I can mold into my own image."

"What you need, it to get out of my house," I pointed towards the door which had, surprisingly enough, just swung open.

"Sarah- who's that?" Grayson was standing in the open doorway staring at something over my shoulder.

I turned to see Jareth standing behind me. If he had been any closer he would have been standing on top of me.

Jareth had a rather amused expression on his face. Grayson looked a little-- angry.

Silence prevailed for a moment or two and glares were given all around before I decided something had to be said.

"Grayson, this is Jareth, an old friend. Jareth, this is my fiancé, Grayson Thomas."

Jareth took a sauntering step around me, offering Grayson a hand. "Well met," he said, looking from Grayson to me. "It all makes sense now. At least, the bitterness..." he whispered in a voice so low I hardly caught it.

I wasn't bitter!

"Yes... Sarah, a word?" Grayson motioned towards the living room and I felt my stomach began to twist in knots.

"Of course," I replied, leaving Jareth with that stupid 'I told you so' look on his face as I followed Grayson into the next room.

"Is this because of your parents?" he asked the second I had closed the sliding oak doors behind me.

"What?"

"This, him." He pointed towards the doors. I assumed he was referring to Jareth who, I was sure, was listening to every word. "Are you trying to get back at me for dropping the plans with your parents? Are you punishing me?" he asked again, his voice was low and his face was emotionless.

At first I didn't understand what he was getting at, then it hit me like a ton of bricks leaving me almost breathless for a moment.

"No!" I exclaimed at last. I forced the volume of my voice to match his own. "Grayson- I don't understand you sometimes! I told you, Jareth is an old friend, if that, and he stopped by to say hi, that's all."

"That's it?" he said skeptically.

"That's it," I snapped back. "That you would even think that I would do something like that to you!"

"I'm sorry, Sarah, I just saw him standing so close, I thought..." Grayson struggle to keep that blank look on his face. He turned away a minute before looking back. "I'm sorry."

I wanted to make him continue, to make him admit right there that he actually did still contain the capacity to feel.

"Don't apologize," I said with a heavy sigh. "Listen... let me get rid of him and we can talk okay?"

"Yeah... okay," he nodded and I left the room.

"He's a pleasant character," Jareth commented. He was sitting on the stairs again that look of pure amusement had yet to leave his lips. "A little paranoid. Is he always so insecure when men are around?"

He had been listening. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.

"Is it a habit of yours to listen in on private conversations? Get out," I demanded, once more pointing towards the door which had been left open upon Grayson's arrival.

"You're not a very good hostess, Sarah," Jareth said frowning for the first time that evening. Perhaps the seriousness of my request had finally been realized.

"Most guests don't arrive unannounced."

"You act like I had a choice in the matter."

"You didn't?" I replied with quirk of my brow.

Jareth looked as though he were struggling with some inner conflict.

"I need your help," he said at last.

"Excuse me?" I said incredulously. "You need my help?"

"You might be crazy, but you aren't deaf," Jareth replied dryly.

"I'm not stupid either, I think you're up to something."

"You know me too well, Sarah," a half-heart smirk was offered. It faded quickly.  
"But I assure you the need is genuine, someone has taken over the Labyrinth," Jareth looked rather pained when he said it.

Perhaps it had been sheer surprise at seeing him, or maybe some sort of facade he had been holding up until now, but I hadn't realized how tired he looked. The face can hide a thousand emotions, but the eyes are unmatchable.

"You really do need help," I said softly.

Jareth looked almost... relieved.

"Sarah, it's getting late..." Grayson had come back into the foyer.

"Right... I'll be upstairs in a minute," I said watching Jareth.

Grayson opened his mouth to speak. "A minute, that's all," I glanced towards him. He frowned, nodded, and disappeared up the stairs.

"I don't understand why you need my help," I returned my attention to Jareth. "I can't do anything."

"On the contrary, Sarah, you've done so much already and you have no idea," he said, unable to help from smiling. "You've kept the Labyrinth alive... and you've sealed it's life with your book."

"It's only a book..." I said shaking my head. "I believed it to be fiction even I wrote it, a vivid dream that I use to believe was real."

"Aren't I proof enough that you weren't dreaming?" He stepped closer, holding his arms out as if he wanted to give me a better chance to examine him.

"I could be going crazy... or maybe I'm sleeping again," I protested.

"You weren't sleeping the first time," he said.

"Why me?"

"Because you took a piece of the Labyrinth with you when you left, your fierce desire to save your brother could not mask all that was in your heart," he said softly. "You felt more at home in that world of chaos and unpredictability then you ever have here. Admit it, you know it, I know it, your heart knows it."

"That's not true," I said, though I hardly knew what was true and what wasn't anymore. "This is my home."

"It's never been your home," Jareth pressed. "Help me Sarah, I can't do it without you."

"Sarah?" Grayson's voice drifted down from upstairs.

"I have to go... you have to go," I said, starting for the stairs. Jareth put a hand on my should to stop me.

"Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life?" Jareth asked, looking towards the stairs. "With him? He doesn't know you, Sarah, he doesn't understand you. Not like I do."

"He loves me."

"Are you sure?"

"This has nothing to do with anything!" I growled, jerking free of his light grasp.

"If you won't do it for me, then do it for your friends, Sarah... do it for Hoggle and the beast..."

"Ludo.." I replied, the name springing to mind with little hesitation. A name I had not been able to recall during the sixth months it took me to put the labyrinth on paper.

"Help me Sarah, and I shall never darken your doorstep again," he pleaded.

"Okay, fine," I said with a sigh. "I'll go, I'll help you. For Hoggle, and Ludo, all of them."

I had a sinking feeling that I was going to regret this, but at the same instances I couldn't wait to go back.


End file.
